Over My Dignity
by Swiss Army Knife
Summary: Sokka and Zuko find that their odd friendship has unanticipated consequences, and both make choices that will effect one another and the new world order.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I had to completely rewrite it to take into account the events of the finale. That said, this is not really intended to be a dead-serious foray into post-war possibilities, just an idea that was teasing me about the politics involved in establishing peace.

**Over My Dignity**

by Swiss

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

The prison stood out in the grey pre-dawn like a murky concrete ziggurat, spiraling upward toward streaks of black cloud. Entering it was like going underground; all claustrophobic tunnels studded with brackets of fire and the faceless masks of the Fire-Nation's most impassive guards standing at intervals.

Zuko hated it there. He had visited this place far too often, and every time it seemed as though the stone drew the very heat from his body. By some trick of the light, the hall seemed to stretch on and onward in its steady curve, interrupted only by the metal doors with their narrow apertures of barred teeth, the only access for the torchlight into the cells that lay beyond.

A particularly heavy door was pulled open, and a low moan escaped into the long corridor, a belly-deep, constant mewling that hovered around the edges of the walls like a lingering smoke.

With a heavy sigh, the former prince of the Fire Nation took a step inside. The hoarse voice halted momentarily at the clap of his boots on the stone, and he saw the shift of a darker blot against the field of shadow beyond the cage's wall. It huddled, slumped in a corner. They'd had to bind her arms behind her to keep her from harming herself.

"Good morning, Azula," Zuko spoke quietly, using a tone that he usually saved for abused animals. He sat down the tray he had brought, pressing it between the opening made for just that purpose. "I brought you some fruit. If you would come closer, I'll help you."

The figure shuddered, and if anything pressed even tighter into a fetal position. Then, rocking, she began murmuring nonsensically to the wall, hissing curses or tearfully humming.

Knowing that this would not be a good day for her, Zuko straightened painfully. In spite of everything between them, it still hurt him to see her like this. She had been ruthless and fragmented even from the beginning, but in an odd way he had also admired her absolute resolve and confident authority. She had been a brilliant young woman in many capacities, and she was his sister.

Multiple reports confirmed her steady descent into paranoia and mania following the betrayal of her companions. It saddened him. Like him, she had harbored festering wounds, but instead of a persistently loving uncle to challenge and change her, she had only had their father. Obviously, he had done more to foster her madness than to help her heal.

There wasn't much else that Zuko could do here. Soon, another would come to feed her and force her to swallow the infusion that was blocking much of her bending. Like their father, she would soon come to trial for crimes against the world, but until that time he intended to make sure she was cared for.

"Goodbye," he said as he turned to leave, but there was no response except a thick, choking sound like a sob.

There was someone waiting for him in the hall when he stepped out. Without bothering to acknowledge him, Zuko pressed his back into the metal door, exhaling. The tension played all over his body – shoulders, temples, the bridge between his nose. He pinched the spot with his fingers, eyes closed. "No better," he reported, almost to himself.

His companion nodded. "I don't know why you keep coming here."

"They're my family," Zuko growled, although he didn't have the energy to be angry. And besides, it wasn't Sokka who had made everything so broken.

"Are you going to see _him_ now?"

Father. Zuko shook his head. "I don't think I have the strength for it today," he answered, a rare admission. "The ambassadors start arriving later this afternoon. There's a lot to get ready."

He was speaking of the gathering of nations that was to occur the following week, during which friends of the Fire Nation and the Avatar would come together to discuss restructuring the network of alliances in a time of peace. It would be a grueling series of audiences, conferences, pandering, and performances.

Sokka understood. Like Zuko, he'd been preparing for the event for months now, almost since the acknowledged defeat of Ozai and Zuko's coronation. Instead, he tilted his chin toward the exit, wordless supplication. Come on.

They left. As they walked, it didn't escape the fire-bender's notice that the Water tribesman matched his step, shoulder to shoulder with him, ready support if he should falter. Zuko appreciated the gesture, more than he could say.

He always left here feeling tired and cold, and today was no exception.

* * *

Zuko tugged his dark hood around his face as they walked the cobbled paths of Fire Nation's capital city. It wasn't really necessary. So early, only the street-sweepers and a few traders were out, just beginning to set up their stalls for the market-day crowd. Everything around them was still painted in shades of lightening blue, the silence disturbed only by the occasional creaking cart-wheel or the far off cry of an infant.

At this time of the morning, Zuko could get away with walking out in the open without a procession. No one expected the Fire Lord to be strolling around in the shadowy hours before daylight, much less alone.

Or almost alone. As he nearly always did, his self-appointed guardian trotted beside him. For weeks, Sokka had done it limping with a crutch under his arm, but now he moved more easily, matching Zuko's hurried pace.

"You look awful," Sokka murmured, almost too low to be heard. Only the echoing quiet made his statement audible.

Zuko grimaced. "Che, you should talk." Like most of his people, Sokka enjoyed the nighttime, but the early morning had never been something he appreciated. His eyes were sleepy even now, though the fire-bender knew his inattentiveness was deceptive. The hilt of Sokka's sword – a recently retrieved, much caressed weapon – was strapped firmly over his shoulder.

The first time the fire-bender had stepped out of the prison cell and found Sokka waiting for him, he had been surprised. Now it was almost a ritual. Zuko only partially understood his motives, but he _did_ understand that Sokka felt he was watching out for him.

"You don't have to come," he stated, an often repeated half-command.

But he didn't really command Sokka, and the other teen just shrugged.

They were passing through the city's great central plaza, about to head up the slope towards the sprawling grounds of the royal family and the Fire Nation's noble houses. A dotting of people were beginning to gather in drowsy clumps, and as they passed, the two adolescents noticed a man scrubbing a low prominent wall. There on the white stone, a graffiti figure had been scrawled in charcoal. Its distorted face and prominent scar left little doubt as to who it was intended to represent in effigy.

Sokka read the caption: "'_Lord Two-face, Fire Nation-traitor'._ Not very creative, is it?"

"No." Though the giant slash that dissected the whole drawing was expressive. Zuko stared at the crude portrayal, unable to resist pressing his own eye. "And they always draw the burn on the right."

Sokka wasn't fooled by his attempted levity. "It will take time to regain their confidence," he encouraged. Another oft-repeated sentiment between them: wait, be patient, be steadfast. But it didn't make the long way before them seem less discouraging. Sometimes Zuko felt everything they he had attempted to build was tottering on the edge of failure.

Turning, Zuko forced his eyes away from the dark smear slandering his name. He had other things to worry about.

* * *

Almost as soon as Sokka set foot inside the walls of the capital's interior city, a plainly dressed courier gestured for his attention. He grinned at the distracted figure of his hooded companion, currently brooding over the tasks ahead. Gripping Zuko's shoulder to signal his departure, he peeled off toward a narrow lane.

The woman waiting for him was tall – taller than him – and possessed the strong, proud features of many of the Nation's women. Wordlessly, she passed a roll of parchment to him, which he skimmed quickly. "They're meeting so soon?" he asked afterward.

"Immediately following lunch," she confirmed, her gaze direct. She was only one set of his eyes in the palace, but he trusted her particularly for her unquestionable, if impersonal, faithfulness. She added, "And, unfortunately, it's been well established the man's feelings aren't disposed toward sympathy."

Sokka hummed, considering. "I'll be able to cover Aang this afternoon," he decided finally, shrugging.

"As though you'd be satisfied with anyone else," the woman deadpanned, though a slip of a smile negotiated with the edge of her firm mouth.

The tribesman accepted the ribbing good-naturedly. "Fair," he agreed. The truth was that he trusted his friend with no one else, and that was nonnegotiable. Head tilted jauntily, he teased, "Does my paranoia offend you?"

The courier was already turning to melt back into the remaining gloom. Over her shoulder, she said reasonably, "It's your job."

Job? Sokka wondered. It wasn't one to which he'd be appointed. But then, he didn't need a mandate to care for the wellbeing of his friends.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Aang's favorite place in the capital city was the courtyard of the palace. Its pool and willowy trees with the open sky overhead was a welcome relief to him in a world of walls and enclosed spaces. The sound of the wind and rustling grass calmed him, and for that reason he often entertained guests there instead of in ne of the enormous, forbidding audience chambers.

Such as Minister Bo Chang, whose city in the southeastern Earth Kingdom was known to be staunchly defended by men and machines. Like many benders of his element, he was heavily built, with fists that curled like roots. He listened intently as Aang explained his position.

"You wish for me to disarm," he finally asked, though with his gravely voice it did not sound like a question.

It was a beautiful day, just cloudy enough that the blue of the canopy was strung with wisps of clouds like spun sugar. Distracted by a Ladyfly fluttering by him, it took Aang a moment to respond. "Yeah. Now that the war is over, no one needs weapons anymore."

Bo Chang was frowning. "Avatar –"

A sudden peel of laughter interrupted his thoughts. The little bat-winged lemur, playful as a kite on such a gusty day, had erupted from the foliage they had been passing and ambushed his master. Giggling, Aang grappled with his pet, trying to peel the grasping, nuzzling primate from his neck.

A throat cleared suddenly. The minister looked down on them with a face like stone.

Aang swallowed, suddenly self-conscious. Momo hunched next to his ear, chittering in an agitated way. "Ah." The young man stoked the animal uncomfortably. "Sorry. You were saying?"

"Listen, Avatar," Bo Chang said. "I am a solid man – my city sits on a foundation of stone that cannot be moved; I am uninterested in conquest. However, while I am a supporter of your attempt to remake this world so that it is supported by something other than greed, I wonder if you aren't being naïve."

Aang felt his jaw working, but it was absent of sound, and Minister Bo Chang continued before he could form a coherent response.

"You are a gentle person," he said, not unkindly but perhaps with something like…was it pity? "To have defeated the Fire Lord was a feat of unparalleled courage and ability…but I can see by looking at you that violence is not your way, and that you don't understand those for whom it is. But in these times, the softhearted are often the targets of power-hungry men. Set down my arms? Leave my city undefended? No. Forgive me, but I cannot do this thing conscionably and still be able to look into the eyes of my people."

It felt like bending ice-water, prickly and freezing. Aang's despair trickled straight down to his toes. "But…if everyone continues the same way they always have, war is inevitable."

Bo Chang nodded gravely. "Perhaps so. But the goodwill of a young boy who wishes all creatures to join hands is not assurance enough. Not even if that goodwill is the Avatar's. If you wish for our confidence, you will have to prove your resolve. Show me and others how you will make this work. And you might begin by reconsidering your friends."

"My friends?" Aang asked wonderingly.

The minster cast a significant look around the beautiful space, tucked in the heart of the Fire Nation's capital city. He told the air-bender, "My city faced occupation not very long ago. The walls are broken like a crippled back, and the outskirts are marked with graves."

Aang knew what he was saying. When he'd made the decision to stay here, he had know that some would not understand. There were those who felt that the Fire Nation had not been strongly enough punished for years of costly war on the continent, and they were resentful and wary of the Avatar's close relationship with the new Fire Lord.

But there had been reasons – good reasons – why Aang stayed.

Still, as the Minister was led from the little garden, all the young air-bender could feel was an ache beneath his ribs. It was a feeling that plagued him more and more often as he dealt with the politics of his position. No one knew exactly what the Avatar was supposed to do in order to keep nature in balance with men. There was no guide book, and, increasingly, he was beleaguered by the feeling that his handling was inept.

People like Bo Change had no confidence in him. Was he doing things all wrong? _Was_ he naïve?

He knew that a friend lingered nearby. Though out of sight, Sokka was surely within range of his voice. However, Aang wasn't in the mood to talk yet, even with him. His glider was propped against a lovely, white-skinned beech and the air-bender took it now, retracting its wings and fingering the spined sail.

He needed to think. So, summoning the element that was still the most natural to him, he took to the sky.

* * *

At about the same time that Aang was confronting the Minister from the Kingdom across the sea, Zuko was handling a more domestic conflict. In preparation for the week ahead, he'd called a meeting with his top officials, heads of security, and military advisors.

"I understand that there are concerns about my order to reduce our armed forces, and that various policy changes under consideration regarding the economy, education, and foreign relations stand for more debate. However," he said firmly. "Right now the safety of our guests _must_ be top priority."

At his back, a discrete, dark-robed man stood with one hand resting casually on the hilt of his weapon. As it was intended, he didn't stand out, but out of the periphery of his vision Zuko could see the thin strip of blue cloth tied around the man's weapon. Sokka didn't trust him alone in a room with these men, and the only thing preventing his physical presence was the fact that the Avatar was also in a meeting today.

Zuko could sense the mild contempt radiating from the bearded faces circling the long, narrow table engraved with the symbol of red flame. Most were leaders who'd thrived during Ozai's iron-fisted rule, and many retained their scorn for the traitor son. Nontheless, Zuko could not completely overturn the military command that had served his father. Not only were they too dangerous to easily depose, but times were too precarious for the Fire nation to be without a well-regulated, if merely defensible, army.

At such times Zuko almost wished that he had his sister's terrifying charisma. But he didn't, and if he were to lead these men it would have to be because he'd won their respect, not because of the force of his personality. This, of course, was easier said than done.

He had a few allies, those who like him had chafed at the extreme, even crazed, methods of his increasingly power-mad family. However, even they were still feeling him out, testing his resolve. All in all, Zuko sometimes felt as though he were attempting to climb out of a volcano suspended by his fingernails. The pit, for the moment, lie dormant. His opponents glowered, glared…but waited.

After a brief time in which arrangements were made, Zuko laid down his hands. "Very well. We'll meet again at the end of the week. You're dismissed."

Even after they had filled out, the bleakness of their disdain seemed to linger. The young Fire Lord looked around the same table where twice his life had been changed. Then he put his face in his hands and sighed.

* * *

Aang was a lover of the open sky. When the sun beat down steadily on his back and the wind drummed his skin like the rattle of cool, friendly fingers – it was in those times he felt most free. In that kind of endless horizon of blue and gold, he could almost forget the responsibility weighing on him.

But in the night?

Gone were the days when Aang slept under the wide open expanse of stars. Since his decision to stay in the Fire Nation, he lived in a series of opulent rooms filled with tapestries, plush rugs, and – in the nighttime – deep, dark open spaces of shadow. Often, Aang woke amidst them out of a troubled sleep, and then there was only the lonely, looming darkness.

Shivering, Aang slipped out of bed.

The corridors were like long arms, endless, with fingers branching in every direction. Tiptoeing, the air-bender crept along in the gloom until he reached a door, familiar as a beloved face in a sea of strangers. Sighing with relief, Aang pressed it open.

Quickly, he moved across the room to the futon. There he saw a breathing back, a concave arch of dusky skin. Almost fearfully, Aang pressed his hand to it, shaking. "Sokka."

"Aang?" the body slurred, shifting. A hand emerged from the covers and rubbed blearily at displaced bangs. "What's wrong?"

The boy didn't wait for an invitation. Miserably, he climbed into the bed, just as he had so many times before during their long journey together – when the nights had been cold or the pressures too great for one person. He trembled.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"I don't know what I'm doing," Aang told him. He swallowed a frustrated sob. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Fully awake now, Sokka's arm enveloped him immediately. His voice was soothing as he spoke, but still Aang hiccupped, and his stomach rolled.

He said it like a confession. "I don't know what I'm doing."

* * *

Never had the bay of the Fire Nation capital been so full of sails. Instead of a horizon of steam and smoke, colorful wind-powered vessels in all shades of green and blue filled the water. Out of them, hundreds of men and women were departing for the first time as guests of equal standing in a country that had once threatened them all with destruction.

Katara stood at the rail of one such ship, dressed finely in a fur-lined dress proudly made by the women of her tribe. She smiled at the mix of smells – the scent of sulfur that she had never forgotten from her travels in this land, mixed with the home-smell of the briny sea. How different it felt to be docking here this time.

Still, the journey from the South Pole seemed longer every time they made it. It had been months since she had seen Aang, and her anticipation had made it difficult to stand the weeks of battling weather and current. Yet they had made it, and now they were about to disembark as dignitaries, proudly involved in an event that would make history.

Beside her, a short-statured girl stood, hands fixed firmly on the banister. She asked, "Well, do you see him yet?"

The water-bender understood Toph's eagerness. When she had last seen her brother, he had still been injured from their battle with the Fire Nation airships, and since then she had sorely missed his smiling face and cheerful chatter. "No," she answered, straining for a better view of the shore. "But he promised he would meet us."

"And that blockhead would never go back on a promise," Toph agreed fondly.

A soft thump, a vibration that shook the timbers beneath their feet, and then the ship dropped anchor. Guiding the earth-bender to the gangplank, Katara gazed out eagerly and her heart leapt. "Sokka!" she called happily at the top of her voice, waving.

Her brother smiled at her out of the crowd, but even from a distance Katara could see that the exuberance she had expected was dimmed. He was leaner, and seemed wane.

"How does he look?" Toph asked as though she had sensed the change in the young woman's demeanor.

Katara frowned, fingering the tightly rolled scroll tucked into the bag at her belt. "Tired," she answered. Everything was not as it should be.

* * *

It wasn't until deep in the evening that Sokka had a moment to himself. He'd spent the day with his sister and friends, laughing and jostling like children. Toph picked fights with him and punched his arm repeatedly. Katara and Aang lingered near one another's side, talking for long hours. In a way it had seemed just like old times.

But things weren't the same.

No longer was he merely big brother, idea guy, klutzy friend. Things were bigger now, and his responsibilities were greater. His choices weren't so simple either, which was evident from the scroll nestled in the palm of his hand – a seal-hide scroll, oiled against all weather and marked with his father's seal.

His sister had handed it to him as they were parting for bed, and he'd taken it so eagerly that it shook in his hands. He'd been expecting this with an anticipation that was part hope and part fear, a feeling that was only emphasized as he unknotted the message now.

He was almost trembling.

Soon the letter lay open before him, his eyes flicking over the familiar handwriting. His eyebrows drew together the further he read, and then the arch of shoulders withered and drooped.

He pressed the heel of his palm hard into his eye. He would not cry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

The chamber was an elegant room in the traditional style, pillared and bedecked with fluttering banners. A pair of heavily studded doors marked an entranceway flanked by robed guards, and at the heart of the space, there was a raised dais upon which were arranged two thrones.

A forbidding youth lounged on the leftmost throne, an obelisk of lacquered oak draped in red fabric. Above his head, at the pinnacle of the rising wood, the chair was crowned with the symbol of his state: the curling flame.

Zuko listened with half attention to the rambling man before the platform with its twin seats, waxing on about some triviality or another as he had for the past half-hour. Unconsciously, he hunched a little further in his reclined position, knuckles digging into his cheek, though he took care to keep his face smooth and regal.

With an effort, he kept his sigh inward.

The throne room looked different than it had in all the days of Zuko's memory. Since at the moment it was being shared as the seat of power for both the Fire Nation and the Avatar – representative of all the world's peoples – most of the crimson tapestries had been removed in favor of a more varied array of earth tones, saffron yellows, and deep, cool blues.

His father had wreathed the area round his throne in unapproachable fire. Now only the smooth floor showed and the two rulers sat in chairs accessible to any visitor. Soft music played in the background, further reducing any menace their position might have held.

It suited the Avatar well.

Zuko's gaze flicked sideways, monitoring the younger boy from the periphery of his vision. Aang was gently tapping his heels against the base of his seat, leaning forward as though in great attentiveness. Zuko, of course, knew better. By the somewhat sleepy expression on the boy's cheerful face, it seemed clear that his mind had wandered.

He cleared his throat warningly and Aang stirred, blinking. When he noticed the fire-bender's gaze, he offered helpless smile, and the former prince had to fight for patience. He reminded himself that the young Avatar was doing his best, but he'd been raised in a monastery, not in an anteroom.

Before them, a jade-robed ambassador stood expectantly, waiting for their response to his request. Aang fidgeted, obviously unsure how to proceed. Zuko took mercy on him.

Drawing up his hand, the Fire Lord instantly quieted all sound in the room. "The Avatar and the Fire Nation appreciate your interest in the successful reconstruction of the world order. Your considerations have been noted."

A gracious gesture of his hand and the simpering dignitary dropped into an appropriately low bow, seemingly satisfied. "The Orlok Bei Li thanks you for your audience," he responded. "He shall await your response eagerly."

But not too eagerly. The man backed away, scurrying towards the door in a shuffling walk particular to administrators of his kind. Zuko was glad to see him go. Like too many of those gathered here, his request had been verbose and waxy with insincerity.

As the space before them cleared, Aang sagged a little with relief, even now unused to such formalities and affectations. Authority simply did not sit well on his face, which was still rounded and open, even if the war had aged it somewhat.

Gratefully, he flashed Zuko a tired grin. "Thanks," he whispered.

Meanwhile, another supplicant had reached the base of the dais. He was dressed finely in shades of rich russet red, and the knot in his hair was topped with a split-silver flame that identified him as one of the Fire Nation's minor nobility. Broad-shouldered, dark and tall, he cut an impressive looming figure – but with the lean, tapered physique of a trained warrior. Slanted charcoal eyes seemed to take in both of the young rulers shrewdly. He bowed.

Something about this man ruffled Zuko, as though lightning had drawn up the hairs on his arms. Carefully disciplining his face, he sought his most stern, authoritative voice when he said, "Speak."

"My Lord Zuko," the man began in a measured tone that made Zuko think of smooth dragon scales or warm marble. "Long have my people defended the Northern corner of your realm. Our sons once filled the ranks of Fire Nation armies, but in these late days many have not returned. Now their mothers are weeping, and their fathers grow restless."

An eloquent, deleterious man, Zuko judged, and his eyes narrowed. He did not like this person, though when he tried to discern exactly why, he found he couldn't. Drawing himself up to his fullest height, Zuko asked, "Who are you?"

The man answered, "I am Gouzhi, of your northwestern cantrev. We are an independent people, but ever loyal. Yet we are also men whose faith is in tested metal and long burning flame. This sudden setting of two young – noble, wise, and no doubt valiant – but young, young men has left many disquieted. Some doubt the strength of this youthful throne, and now their spears have begun to rattle even louder than my voice of reason and order."

To hear such words spoken so boldly deeply unsettled Zuko. He challenged, "You speak of treason."

"Me?" Gouzhi denied the accusation, as though in great bewilderment. "Never, my Lord. My house has been faithful to yours for generations."

Yet even as his cultured voice told tales of devotion, his dark eyes glinted, hinting at a more dangerous adversary than even such thinly veined mockery indicated. There was a sword under this sheet.

He finished, "I merely state facts so that solutions may be found."

Zuko sat back on his throne, struggling to keep his uneasiness from showing. Beside him, Aang shifted under the weight of this man's smoldering gaze. Glowering, Zuko asked, "Why are you here?"

"For the good of your rule, I assure you. Long and hard have I thought over the unrest that your Lordship's ascension has brought to our nation." Zuko twitched, involuntarily stung, though if he noticed Gouzhi made no outward sign. Smoothing his distinguished goatee, the noble pondered aloud, "I thought, how might a bold young ruler prove that age does not limit great cunning and skill?"

Zuko did not like where this might be heading. "I have nothing to prove to anyone."

"Certainly," Gouzhi agreed readily, but the danger was welling up again in his eyes like a gathering storm. "And yet, there is much that might be gained from a little conciliation, Lord Zuko."

The entire court – only a small number today – stood frozen in wordless anticipation. It was Aang that broke the suspended silence. Sounding puzzled, he said, "I don't understand. What do you want Zuko to do?"

The look that Gouzhi gave the Avatar in that moment was almost pitying, but it quickly redirected to stare directly at Zuko. This man was challenging him.

"I am growing very tired of this audience," Zuko issued a warning of his own, bristling. "Speak your intentions plainly or not at all." He made as though to gesture for the ever present guards, but Gouzhi seemed finished with his machinations.

"One understands that a leader cannot traipse around the Nation putting on shows of ability before those he rules," the nobleman said. "However, you might be represented – by another, also bold and young." He paused meaningfully, and when he spoke again it was like a narrow hiss. "It would do much to convince _me_."

Tribute. So the man came looking to gain something for a promised allegiance. It was shrewd, but not entirely unexpected. Many of those that he and the Avatar had seen in these last days had come to ask, more or less subtly, for similar _assurances_.

Yet Zuko sensed something different here, more sinister. This man had something particular in mind. "What might…_convince_ you, then?" Zuko sneered.

Gouzhi's hands clinched briefly around the sleeves of his cloak, the first expression of visible agitation he had shown. However, he kept his composure, saying, "In the days of celebration after the fall of Fire Lord Ozai, I happened to be present in the capital and attended some of the festivities. There was a veritable carnival of skill represented – earth and water bending, weapons masters; a clamor of demonstrations."

Zuko remembered those days with mixed feelings. He'd reveled in the attainment of their ultimate goal and in what he considered the rebirth of the Fire Nation, his home. But he had also been struggling with the imprisonment of his father, his sister's madness, and with new responsibilities and an uncertain future. Still, he had found some pleasure in the bright displays, which had included great exhibitions of talent.

Gouzhi spoke clearly. "Of all the performers, a particular young warrior came to my attention. I later came to know him as a retainer of yours, Fire Lord Zuko. A Southern Water tribesmen with a black sword."

"Sokka?" Aang asked, astonished into an outburst.

Similarly surprised, Zuko's eyes flicked automatically to the throne room's shadowed alcoves where the adolescent Water tribesmen usually took up his self-appointed place to pass his own judgment over the people and proceedings. Strangely, there was no hint of the keen azure eyes today. In his place stood another guardian, marked as they always were with the thread of blue.

Gouzhi tracked the direction of his gaze, and his lips drew back slowly. "Oh yes, I also noticed that he is oddly absent, since he rarely seems apart from your side. A pity." He pouted, and it was an oddly perverse look on his strong features. "I had been hoping I might see him again today."

Zuko's frown burrowed down to make a tight knot of anxiety in his stomach. What did this man want? Aang obviously had similar concerns. He objected, "But Sokka isn't a retainer of the Fire Nation."

"Oh?" the man's voice had lowered to a rasping curl. "There are those who believe differently."

"What do you want with him?" the Avatar wondered aloud before Zuko could growl the same question.

Gouzhi smiled at the boy. "Ah, such a warrior any leader would be pleased to have under their command. You have many followers, Avatar. As a gesture of good faith, give this one into my service."

"You…want Sokka to come work for you?" Aang seemed stunned that he would ask such a thing.

The man nodded, "As a member of my personal guard, yes. I was deeply impressed by the performance that I witnessed during the victory celebrations. Such skill should be put to good use. Let him represent you both with me in the northern cantrevs."

Aang did not even have time to stammer out a response.

"No." The word had escaped Zuko's mouth without thought, without consideration. He didn't have time to analyze the strange sensation that burned through him, but later he would find that it was premonition, fear. He stood, his hand slicing the air. "This audience is finished."

Gouzhi did not protest as the young Fire Lord thought he might, but instead arched his body once more, respectfully low at the waist. He said, "Very well. But I shall stay until the end of the week. By then I hope you will have reconsidered my offer."

"Go," Zuko bit off the monotone request.

Sensing his agitation, the guards at the back of the room shifted restlessly in their positions, glaring at the noble as he slowly pivoted and moved down the chamber. It wasn't until the tall man had exited and faded into the exterior halls that a measure of Zuko's tension eased, and even so much of it remained, tight behind his eyes.

"That was weird," the Avatar spoke from beside him. He didn't sound upset, only mildly bemused. "That someone would ask for Sokka like that."

Zuko grunted, trying to hide his uneasiness as he surveyed the murmuring room of low voices. Very likely, they were also discussing the audacious request.

Aang giggled, "What a scary guy, too. It was almost like he was threatening us."

It was in such times that Zuko sincerely, truly worried about the direction of the reconstruction, with so much dependent on the wisdom of this boy beside him. Aang was blinking at him now with his wide grey eyes, which grew troubled as they picked up on his dark mood.

"Zuko," he asked. "Do you really think we're in trouble? So many of them say stuff like. But the war just ended, do you really think – "

He sounded afraid, and just in that moment the fire-bender wanted to clout him. "The northern cantrev of the Fire Nation is a knot of warriors," Zuko disillusioned him.

Aang become visibly upset. "Then, we have to listen to him? He could really hurt us?" It was as though he had already forgotten just what Gouzhi had requested.

"No," Zuko said unequivocally. He reminded Aang, "You're the Avatar, and I'm the Fire Lord. This isn't a time to vacillate or appear weak."

"But if he's really so powerful," Aang began.

Zuko snarled, shaking his head. There wasn't time to discuss this now; the carpet drawn down the room was already occupied by another petitioner, this one a military leader from Ba Sing Se that the fire-bender dimly recognized as one of Kuei's former liaisons of war. He finished hurriedly, "Don't be a fool, Aang. This isn't a game."

Then the strong, simple words of the straightforward earth-bender filled the room and there was no more space for whispers. Zuko leaned back against his throne, glaring generally as he listened with half an ear.

The rest of his mind was on the audience he had just endured, the fear he'd heard in Aang's voice, and the only Southern Water tribesman he knew with a black sword.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

After the long sting of audiences, Zuko escaped into one of the palace's many passages, seeking privacy and reflection. As he walked, arms crossed tensely before him, his thoughts were turned inward. There he chewed over his many worries, pressures, and decisions. Like this situation he now found himself in with the Avatar.

The power grubbing that they'd experienced so far this week had not surprised him; he had known too much of politics to be astonished by self-interest. He had expected the greed, but not the undertones of hostility. Not so soon.

It was like an itch under his skin, like a sense he wasn't certain of, but he could feel the nations stirring with new strife. Unrest whispered, violence stretched its muscles under skin far too accustomed to war. Theirs was a world in transition. Things were so tentative, so in need of gentle handling. A nudge in either direction would change the course of the future.

This was a heavy responsibility, one that bore on him in the middle of the night and in all his unoccupied moments . Aang, too, was burdened, but he wasn't dealing with it nearly so well. He didn't have the training, and if today was any indication, this could be a fatal deficiency. They couldn't afford to show uncertainty. The possible consequences for such irresolution could be high.

He thought of Gouzhi's request with a deep disquietude.

He'd come to a branch in the path and his feet turned automatically towards a familiar room. He could smell it before he saw it; the air was musky and slightly warmer here than the rest of the building. It was a wide aperture with high ceilings and a matted floor. Zuko stopped by an open basin of water standing near one of the pillars that portioned the dojo off from the hall, looking deeper into the training room.

It was occupied. That alone was unusual, since this particularly room was generally reserved for members of the royal family. Still, once he recognized the intruder, he understood. Ah.

Sokka wasn't using his sword, but instead was moving through a series of complicated movements in flares and spurts that Zuko recognized. It slid out of the expected pattern occasionally, welling up with water in whirls and torrents. But, essentially, the fire-bender knew that form, could have stepped in beside the tribesman and followed like a shadow.

Zuko pressed a hand to his breast, considering the fatigue he felt working in his bones. He'd come here on instinct, led by a body overwhelmed with the problems of his mind. Perhaps he needed to get lost in the rhythm of physical exercise. A grin grew on his face, tugging at the edges of his scar. Why not?

Of course, working through a kata would be altogether too tame – boring even.

Zuko announced himself by swinging the heel of his foot towards his opponent's shoulder, almost too swiftly for Sokka to manage an effective dodge. If it had made contact it would have splintered bone, but Sokka's backward momentum saved him. Smirking, the fire-bender was treated to widened eyes, momentary surprise, and then he was forced to duck as a blindingly swift roundhouse kick made his hair ruffle in the resulting breeze.

After that, their spar began with hardly a hiccup of hesitation, dissolving into a controlled flurry of strikes, parries, retreats, and returns.

For a while they traded advantage, so that to an observer their fight would have seemed like an exhibition. Sokka was showing off what he'd been learning about the Fire forms and Zuko evaluated him. Still a little clumsy, he judged, but quickly developing. To add a degree of difficulty, he pushed harder, calling on his flame.

"Ha!" shouted the Cimmerian youth, and a spurt of fire danced obediently from his knuckles.

Another warrior might have balked, but Sokka was too experienced with fire-benders to make such a mistake. Instead he accepted the flaming blow, blocking with the bare flesh of his forearm. He refused to give ground and widen the range of Zuko's attack to where the wild tongues of flame would become more dangerous. Instead he kept at close range, close enough that his attacker had to be precise rather than devastating, or else risk damage to his own skin.

At first utilizing his bending gave Zuko the initiative. Fire was the element of power, and few knew it so well as he did. Forced to retreat, Sokka scrambled on the defensive, rolling and dodging now that heat stung with every blow. Their battle become more acrobatic.

Fire was a form of feet and deflection. It raged, flickered, reared back up in flames. It was cyclical, ever-moving, unbroken. Then suddenly, off-puttingly, the flare died in Sokka's posture and he stopped like a stone, feet square, fists closed. It was a stance more common on the lower rings of Ba Sing Se, a completely different style altogether. Zuko stalled, his body too stunned by the break in regularity to listen to the harsh redirection of his mind.

Taking advantage of this hesitation, Sokka swirled forward like a rain. The flow was subtle, smooth, and again, completely different. Zuko's well-trained body fought to keep up. This was always the hardest part of sparing with Sokka. He changed skin like a chameleon, disrupting all patterns. An unabashed mimic, he would study _anyone_. Sloppiness, some would call it, but his uncle praised this mishmash mastery.

And sure, it was hard to refute its effectiveness when you were being forced to defend yourself.

Attempting to reclaim control, Zuko chanced a powerful, double-fisted blow. He heard the crack when it connected, centered directly over Sokka's breastbone. It flung the Water tribesman to the floor where he skidded and knocking his head on a pillar. The fire-bender didn't give him time to reorient, bringing his heel downward in a crushing arch.

Sokka dodged – heels over head – swinging his body around the column and jostling the bucket of water. Zuko saw his hand go down the container, and so he expected the handful of water flung in his face.

Drops of liquid and sweat beaded the fire-benders cheeks. It stung his eyes, though he refused to blink. He was ready when the tribesman launched forward with a rattling cry, and for a moment they grappled, Sokka latched to his arm.

However, Zuko was too good at locked forms. With a natural strength his opponent lacked and armed with knowledge the other didn't have, he broke the stand-still expertly, throwing the younger fighter one-handed. Sokka splayed in a helpless, unguarded tumble flat on his back. Wide-eyed, he watched Zuko surge forward, whose hand was drawn back to call up a bellow of flames.

Then suddenly Zuko was biting back a bark of pain as the ember backfired in a fizzling discharge. Stunned, he blinked as a plume of superheated steam billowed up under his nose. What –?

A damp rag had been twisted around his fist. As his mind unraveled, slowing from the reaction speed it had assumed to keep up with the fight, he realized what had happened. He'd assumed that the handful of water was all Sokka had grabbed when he'd stumbled by the bucket, but no. Like a series of flashes, Zuko saw images of the attack that followed. The odd grip on his wrist that he'd instinctively thrown off.

Why that sneaky… Sokka had anticipated him, down the hand with which he'd chosen to attack.

In his moment of inattention, the Southerner had regained his feet and moved to slip under Zuko's guard. The fire-bender caught the flash of metal, knew this strike was meant to be final. Already his body was moving, as though in slow motion, and the two boys came together in an incredible wrenching finale. Bone and iron brought themselves fatally to bear…

And then, hearts pounding, both came to a dead stop.

Zuko's knuckle dug hard into the pocket of Sokka's throat, easily a nail-bite away from a strike that would have crushed his windpipe. This triumph was off put by the sting he felt at his neck and the caress of cold metal. Cattycorner to his eye, he caught a glimpse of the boot knife pressed pitilessly against his jugular. He could feel the pulsing artery now. His blood itched.

For a moment, the two boys just panted, frozen so close to death that they were breathing each other's air. Then Sokka collapsed into a breathless giggle, drawing back his blade and rubbing his own throat. The tension snapped neatly in half. Zuko grinned too.

Sokka was smiling ruefully at him through their puffs of breath, holding his side. His modified Fire Nation clothing made him look tall and able, even as the patches of blue fabric and laughing eyes made him also unmistakably himself. "What a workout," he commented. His head tilted slightly, offering his companion a congenial smile. "Though I wasn't expecting a partner."

Zuko shrugged, unapologetic. It would have been undignified to admit that when he saw the cascade of strangely changed yet oddly familiar movements he couldn't help but be caught up in the midst of it. And while in a way it seemed strange for him to feel such a strong kinship with this water tribesman, he couldn't deny it either. Adrenaline, purifying and strong, still beat at his temples; it had been a good sparring match.

Crossing his arms, Zuko did his best to look prideful and contemptuous. "I thought it might do you good to see a truly disciplined warrior fight. Perhaps it will improve your lead-footed form."

Sokka made a face at him, unmoved. "Yeah, well," he dismissed the insult, rolling his shoulders and stretching. "One way or another it was pretty fun."

Fun. At an earlier time in his life, Zuko might have scoffed at such a statement, but now he found himself inclined to agree. He had always appreciated his training, but he had spent so much time just _striving_ that he'd never really allowed himself to get caught up in the exhilaration of it. He _enjoyed_ sparring with Sokka, this peer whose methods were so different from his own and yet were not overwhelmed.

It was even interesting to bend with Sokka, though he had nothing but his own ingenuity to throw back against Zuko's flames. He was extremely clever, like with the rag. Not that Zuko would ever _tell_ him so.

"What brought you to the training hall?" he asked instead. "I expected to see you lingering at the edges of the throne room today as usual, looking suspicious."

Sokka seemed chagrinned. "Ah. Well, I needed to work out some things. Stress makes my muscles tighten up. The katas are soothing," he offered as an afterthought.

Zuko's dipped his chin, agreeing. Even when his bending had still been fueled by a formless, undirected anger, he had often found that becoming lost in the movement of his own body could quiet his raging heart and make it thunder for the furious rush of living rather than for fury itself. It was even more a portal of meditation to him now. His uncle's words flowed back to him as though from a different stream; they refreshed as well as cooled, strengthened as well as tempered. Yes, he thought as he breathed deeply of the familiar sweat-scented air of the training hall. The spar had soothed him, too.

Which said nothing about the source of Sokka's distress. Realizing this, Zuko inquired, "What's bothering you? Still sulking without your girlfriend?"

Like many places in the world, Kioshi Island was being rebuilt, and Suki was needed by her people. The fire-bender knew the two corresponded regularly, but he was also aware that the strain of their separation was difficult for them and occasionally Sokka had been known to mope.

"Ho," the Southerner voiced dryly. A line had formed on his forehead, however, like a rift down a dry river bed. "No, it's about Katara arriving."

"Your sister is back?" Zuko gave a theatrical shudder of dread, and Sokka pretended to look offended. However, neither of them kept up the pretence for long.

"You know perfectly well that she and Toph came in yesterday morning."

"And she brought word from your home?" Zuko shrugged toward the scroll that Sokka had absently pulled from his belt, turning it unconsciously over and over in his hands.

Realizing that he'd been caught, Sokka made a vain attempt to sound nonchalant, but obviously he was troubled about whatever news had arrived from the south. "The work is going well there. With help from the water-benders from the Northern Tribe, my village is rebuilt and thriving. There've been weddings as well as burials. Katara's been raving that she thinks one of the children she delivered is a water-bender."

"That's good," Zuko said sincerely. Like the air-benders of old, the Southern tribes had been in danger of complete destruction and it soothed his conscience to know that things were not beyond healing there. Still, looking at his companion's downcast face, it seemed there was more to this good news than was obvious. He asked, "What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Sokka questioned whimsically. But Zuko was glaring at him and he finally sighed. "Zuko, I've been traveling for years. The truth is, I sometimes wish I could just go home."

That was understandable. So far as he knew, Sokka had not seen the South Pole since Zuko attacked it. It was reasonable that he would like to return after so long. Zuko keenly remembered how he'd longed for his own home.

Involuntarily, the fire-bender's gaze flickered to Sokka's leg. Ostentatiously, it had been his injury that had kept him here. He'd been cautioned that hard travel might cripple him, but that wasn't an issue anymore. "Why don't you go back, then?" he asked. Though it surprised him how unhappy it made him to think of Sokka leaving.

A shake of the head. "I'm not sure there's a place for me right now. My family and all the other warriors are back. And what about Aang?"

The young Lord knew how much both siblings worried about the Avatar. It was the deeper reason that Sokka had remained here: to help Aang. "Perhaps your sister could stay," he dared suggest.

Sokka actually snorted. "Katara? No, Dad is already anxious that she return soon. She's the symbol of the reconstruction, the radiant blossom of ice that burst forth from barren ground." It sounded as if he were quoting. "She's needed."

Zuko dimly understood this situation. He knew that Katara was the first Southern Water Tribe bender in a generation, and the last left alive so far as anyone knew. She was a great keystone to her people; a source of inspiration and leadership.

"What about you?" he asked.

Sokka had many smiles; some sarcastic, a few vibrant, and several varieties of gormless. This one was a rare sort, though seen with growing frequency: resigned. It set a cast over his eyes, dimming them to still, tepid seawater rather than their rightful glacier blue. He said, "Well, I'm sure my dad means for me to come back eventually."

A niggling sense of premonition pricked Zuko's ribs. Here, he sensed, was Sokka's unhappiness. Thinking around it carefully, a long moment passed before a suspicion weeded itself out among the other possibilities and Zuko guessed, "He didn't send for you."

Chief Hakoda, Sokka's father. The faltering expression on Sokka's face confirmed it. He'd been expecting to be called home, but that word hadn't come.

Zuko asked, "Have you thought about going back anyway?"

Sokka grimaced. "It's hard. Abandoning Aang right now seems wrong. You've seen him Zuko, he's willing but he just doesn't have the head for intrigue and politics."

The former prince emphatically agreed. "He's going to have to become some other kind of leader."

"Yes," Sokka agreed, sounding almost relieved, as if he were glad to hear another person besides himself speaking such words. "And I feel like he needs to figure it out for himself, not that I have any real answers for him. Until then, I want to protect him, pave the way. He needs help, and as much as I know you want to, Zuko-"

"I have my own nation to worry about," the young man said on a tired exhalation. "Things are so complicated. Sometimes I don't feel any more ready than Aang."

His friend clapped his arm. "You have your uncle and your allies," he reminded Zuko. "Though, honestly, I think you're too hard on yourself. You should be proud of how far you've come."

Far was "far" because you started off a long way from where you needed to be. Still, Zuko would take what comfort came to him. "Well, progress _is_ something to celebrate."

There was a lapse in the conversation then, a moment of solemn, easy calm in which Sokka stared at his bare, brown toes and Zuko stared at nothing, his mind busy tying threads together. Finally, tentatively, he suggested, "You could stay."

Sokka blinked, confused. "Stay? And do what, skulk in dark corners and 'look suspicious.'"

"Yes," Zuko said. He thought of the weapons demonstration that Gouzhi had mentioned. There, Sokka had been briefly reunited with Piandao and the pair had indeed put on a breathtaking performance. "Seriously. With your skill you'd be welcome in any guard in the Fire Nation."

Sokka grinned, embarrassed, "Ha. Well, your uncle says I'm still pretty lumbering."

This instigated another misbegotten flare of kinship. "He'll always say that," Zuko said. "Not that there isn't room for improvement."

Their teasing past, some of the concerns that had been bothering Zuko began to return to the front of his mind. "I'm troubled," he admitted. "I'm worried about the power of the Avatar."

Sokka, likewise, let the expression of easy humor slide from his face. Gripping Zuko lightly by the arm, he lead them both to the cushions that had been placed in the far corner of the room.

As he folded himself into a comfortable position, Zuko paused, recognizing that this place was where his uncle had often sat to watch his early training. He stretched him palm briefly over the cool surface of the low table beside him. No tea kettle had settled there for some time.

They both allowed a moment to pass before Sokka finally asked, "What's wrong, Zuko? Something to do with Aang?" He sounded neutral, but also protective. He'd dedicated his life to the Avatar, and his feelings about him were strong.

Zuko looked at the tribesman and wondered what to say. He didn't feel like he could tell Sokka the details of Gouzhi's offer, but in a way he wished he could. "We were meeting a handful of dignitaries today. Nobles from the Fire nation and ambassadors from various Earth Kingdom city-states, mostly. On the surface, it was a meeting of good will and exchanged favors." He rubbed his temple, wishing once more that his Uncle wasn't away at the moment. But Sokka's eyes were pinned on him steadily, and so he went on, "As you know, we actually hoped to feel them out, to see who was likely to aid us in a time of coming war."

Sokka nodded. He needed no explanation as to how close they were to hostilities. His place might have been behind the scenes, but Zuko knew how aware he was, knew that he was likely at the head of much of the Avatar's personal security and intelligence. And it was possible that Aang didn't even _know_ that. It was such ignorance of his resources – of people like Sokka – that made Zuko afraid.

"One of the lords asked him for something that he should not – _cannot_ – consider giving. I worry that Aang isn't wise enough to resist his machinations, and I worry who might have to pay the price if he makes a foolish decision."

To his credit, Sokka did not answer right away. Yet, ultimately, though he was usually so shrewd a judge of other people, for his friend he had a blind spot. "Aang has come a long way, and I know he's ready to be a good leader. I trust him to do what is right." Faith radiated from his expression, from his whole body. "He'll do the right thing."

'_By you?'_ Zuko wondered, his brow furrowed. "I'm worried," he repeated. It was the kind of thing he had become better at sharing openly: bald factual statements of his feelings.

A hand pressed his shoulder. Sokka said, "It will be okay."

Zuko only wished he could be so sure. Clearing his throat, he decided to let the subject rest for now. "I'm actually glad I ran into you. We're sparring today – all of us. Toph, your sister, and Aang. We can walk together to the practice fields."

It was Sokka's turn to look evasive. "Ah," he hedged, pressing a dopey kind of grin on his face. "I hadn't forgotten; I was with Katara when Aang reminded her this morning. But they were pretty clear it was going to be bending practice. I'd just be in the way."

The way he said lead Zuko to believe that it was the others who were concerned about Sokka being 'in the way.' The fire-bender frowned. "I bend when we spar," he said. "You spar with other benders. I've watched."

Sokka, likable and unprepossessing, had made numerous friendly acquaintances around the palace and often bullied them into practice sessions with him. Most started by keeping their earth or fire tucked away. Until they started losing. Though even using their gifts did not always bring them any advantage. Possibly this was a result of Sokka having traveled with arguably the world's greatest masters in each elemental art, none of whom were particularly careful of him.

Sokka shrugged, "It's not exactly the same, I guess. You guys do tend to get pretty cataclysmic. Nothing much a regular guy can do against a lava flow or a tidal wave except _not die_, you know."

Zuko remembered the near complete destruction Sokka had reeked on the fleet of Fire Nation airships on the day of Sozin's comet and wondered.

"You look like someone just insulted your mother," Sokka teased him. "Or maybe your ponytail."

Self-consciously, the Fire Nation youth reflexively tugged at the neatly tied bunch of hair on his head. He had always been more comfortable with it longer, though he would never go back to the style he'd once worn. "You should talk," he minced.

Smiling, completely unoffended, the Southerner nodded so that his own tail bobbed. His hair was more brown than Zuko's, and today it was bound up in a haphazard knot rather than his usual lazy tail, but he, too, had never really gone back to the tribal cut he'd worn when they first met. Really, they looked surprisingly alike these days, so much that Uncle teased him. Zuko took consolation in the fact that he was still taller, and probably always would be.

He considered how he felt about skipping the planned sparring match. It made him sour, but his sense of injustice was even keener. "Perhaps I won't go," he tested the words aloud, to see if that changed anything.

Sokka snorted, but his eyes and his face were almost fond. "I appreciate it, but you know you'd just be grumpy for days if you missed it. And training is important. You never know when you might need those skills for something more than charring innocent Water tribesmen during sparing practice."

Zuko tossed his head, expression clearly showing what he thought about that foolishness. "I didn't hurt you."

"_Sure_ you didn't." Sokka made a show of rubbing his sternum and wincing, presumably from a bruise hiding there beneath his clothing. Then he wrung his hands, which did look a little red. A shinny strip disappeared down the cuff of one sleeve, deep enough, probably, that it would blister and weep.

"Whining about such minor burns is for babies," the fire-bender berated him. He knew that however much he pouted, Sokka was secretly pleased that Zuko didn't hold back when they were fighting. They both knew it was for the best, for both of them. Sokka spent too much time around benders not to know how to fight them, and Zuko needed to learn to effectively engage everyone else. So he said, "Get your sissie to fix your owies later if they hurt so badly."

Sokka nodded, too practical to say that he wouldn't. It was one of the stranger things about him to Zuko – the weird dichotomy of pragmatism and honor that allowed compromises _he_ would never make. Yet the very fact that Sokka was sitting _alive_ in his presence said something about how practical his outlook was.

"You'll be late if you don't hurry." Sokka bent his knees to stand, stretching grandly so that his joints crackled. "Ack," he croaked, making a face. "I'm getting old."

Zuko rolled his eyes and rose with deliberate grace. He made a show of straightening his vest and went to retrieve his boots. Sokka followed him leisurely on his bare feet, seemingly intent on escorting his sparing partner to the palace gate.

When they reached it, Sokka gave a jaunty wave. "Don't die," he teased, and turned to head off. Before he could, Zuko snatched hold of him, digging fingers into the collar of his tunic so that the other stopped short, choking.

"Hey!" Sokka protested, but the prince cut him off.

"Come with me," he insisted. "The others will get over it. Come and practice with everyone else."

Sokka was smiling again, that good-natured, unbothered one he pulled out when he had accepted something that had once upset him. He said, "Tempting, but naw. I've got stuff to do. But I'll see you later, okay? I'm always up for a good match, or hey, we could go swimming!"

He meant it as a playful deterrent. It was one thing they still kept up pretenses about, though the ironic reality was that, really, it was an activity they both enjoyed. The water was Sokka's element, bender of no, and Zuko had been raised on a island.

Zuko was irritated, but the Water tribesman seemed stubbornly unwilling to budge on this. "Fine," he said finally, scowling. He let go of Sokka's shirt reluctantly. Fine. But he didn't like it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

The bending battle had been a good distraction – challenging and life-threatening, as it always was.

Feeling sweaty and satisfying sore, Zuko was heading back to his rooms while highlights from the spar scrolled through his mind. He had attempted a particularly daring rolling feint under Toph's guard today, and though he'd gotten the angle slightly wrong – with the bruises to prove it – there _had_ been potential…

He was so preoccupied that he did not notice the shadow in a door as he passed it, a great umbrage of solid bulk. It stepped out behind him into the hall, and then a gravely voice hailed, "Zuko!"

"Uncle," Zuko said in astonishment even as he was enveloped in a warm, if burly, embrace. The older man squeezed him until his bones creaked, and after an initial hiccup of hesitation, Zuko returned it. He was back so soon!

"My nephew," his uncle greeted him, and the grip tightened. "It is _so_ good to see you."

He looked strange in his travel-worn green outfit, the fabric over his breast displaying the symbol of the Earth Kingdom. His venerable grey hair was tucked under one of the bowled silk hats he had so admired during their stay in Ba Sing Se, but the familiar beard and side burns made him unmistakably his Uncle Iroh, Dragon of the West.

"It's good to see you too, Uncle," Zuko answered him, and to his embarrassment, he felt his eyes sting. Though they had been apart for such a short time, it had been an absence he sorely felt. He admitted, "I was just thinking of you earlier today."

"Oh?" the older man inquired. He gestured them both back through the door he'd appeared from – his own chambers, actually, whenever he visited. Comfortably rather than lavishly decorated, Zuko had been known to spend time there even when Iroh was absent. His favorite area was beside the windows, and he reached out now to gently finger the tender shoots of the plants growing there as they passed onto the shaded porch.

His uncle guided them to a pair of cushions near a low table, and Zuko caught the wafting of jasmine even before he folded his legs beneath him. It was with a lighter heart that he took his first careful sip of tea and sighed deeply over the steam.

With a grunt, the former general settled himself. "So, what is it that is troubling you, Nephew? No need to deny it. It is plain on your face."

Though always disturbed by how well his uncle was able to read him, Zuko was nonetheless thankful for the opportunity to seek needed advice. "Things have become complicated here," he said.

"Ruling a nation will never be easy," Iroh agreed. "Leadership is a heavy burden, and as Fire Lord you are called to be even more than a mere general, chief, or captain."

Zuko sneered. "The politics, yes I know." He'd seen enough of that unattractive side of his position in this last week to fill a lifetime. But now mistakes did not lead to clumsy misteps or petty failures. It could lead to war. "I wish you had been here this morning, Uncle," he admitted, his hands braced against his knees.

There was no need to explain the dilemma he faced. Though officially retired, recently Iroh had also been using his experience as a mediator and his vast array of personal contacts to sooth tempers and build support for peace.

Zuko continued, "I expected the mongering, the scrapping, and the requests for favor, but this morning a man came forward. He practically demanded tribute, implying he would have a force at our doorsteps otherwise." He shook his head. "I hadn't prepared for such open overtures of hostility."

"You've made a great deal of changes in a very short time," Iroh reminded him. "They were necessary changes, but you cannot expect that everyone will accept them willingly. Though it grieves me, a show of force may be necessary in the end."

"That is not how I want to show my strength," Zuko snarled, though a note of resignation weighed on it heavily. Though all his training agreed that a strong rebuke of this opponent might consolidate his rule, his deeper nature recoiled from lashing out at his own people – of ruling by fear as his father had.

His uncle obviously saw this in his face because he assured, "You are your own man, my dear one. Always, you have been this way." He smiled. "It set you apart from your sister in childhood, and it was why I staked so much of my hope in you."

Zuko lived in terror betraying that hope. He had already failed his Uncle so many times. "I'm worried about the Avatar," he admitted suddenly, just as he had to Sokka. These two, they were secret-keepers and advisors to him, and this was the root of his fear. "He has a good heart, but sometimes he still seems so much like a child. Yet his decisions can hurt people."

The former general perked up from his tea, sobering. He placed a hand on the boy's knee. "Who was this man who came to court today?" he asked, ever perceptive.

"His name was Gouzhi," Zuko responded, and immediately the creases of his uncle's face bunched together. "Do you know him?"

"Not well," Iroh rumbled, but there was a kind of darkening of his eyes that indicated that what he _did_ know did not impress him. "He was a troublesome young officer once, cowardly but unscrupulous. Cruel in the way little boys are often cruel – he liked to ruin things."

The sick feeling that had been troubling Zuko distantly all afternoon became more persistent. Ruin. And this man wanted Sokka. "He frightens Aang," he heard himself saying.

"Hm." His uncle stroked his beard. "Gouzhi would not be an enemy with whom it would be wise to capitulate. It is like giving an egg to a serpent; it will always be ravenous for more." He paused, then asked, "What tribute did he want, Nephew?"

It wasn't something that Zuko felt clearheaded enough to discuss, so he shook his head. Instead, he tried a rather poor deflection. "I spared with Sokka today."

The older man's face immediately brightened. "Ah, Sokka," he said contentedly. "I'm glad you're spending time with him. He is, dare I say it, a good influence on you." Zuko sputtered with contention, but Iroh plowed on before he could build up a proper outrage. "Versatile, responsive to instruction, not too proud to learn from –" Here, he chuckled, "– repeated mistakes. All good traits. Really, you two are much alike."

"We aren't," Zuko denied, scandalized.

The older man hummed. "A good leader surrounds himself with dependable people. If you are wise enough to choose worthy companions, then you are well on your way to becoming an excellent Fire Lord."

How Zuko wished it was so. "Sometimes I wish you would take over for me," he dared to say.

He looked into the kind eyes of the one person in his life who had consistently supported him. Yet Iroh was never one to soften the truth either. "You know, my nephew, that I have no intention of taking the reigns of leadership from the hands of the young. I am old, and very soon I will leave you. Then you will have to decide these things on your own."

For a moment, Zuko fought with his inclination to curl inward with despair. But his uncle was right. He knew, had known. In the years before, he had been certain, even arrogantly certain, that he was ready. Why did such doubt plague him now?

In another time, the conversation might have ended there, but recently Zuko had grown less aggressively offended by his uncle's attempts to sooth and advise him. Thus the old man ventured to ask, "Was there something else bothering you? I sense there is something even deeper."

Deeper? Zuko wasn't sure. "Did you know that Katara returned today?" he asked, as though from nowhere.

Iroh nodded. "I did. I greeted her early this morning. She has become a very beautiful and compassionate young woman."

The young fire-bender concentrated strongly on the warm pattern that the falling sun made against palace walls. "She brought a message from the South Pole. Sokka's father didn't ask him to come home. He's confused, unsure where he's wanted or needed." And a little hurt. Zuko remembered the expression he'd worn.

"His uncertainty is understandable," the former general spoke, sounding regretful. He was very fond of Sokka. "And this is what is bothering you?"

"No. I was thinking about it because…" Zuko tried to reason it out. "I used to think that the universe was against me, and that no one had problems greater than my own. But that was stupid. Lots of people have hard problems. Lots of people battle the universe."

Zuko snarled irritably when his uncle gave a full-bellied laugh. "Why are you making that noise?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry, nephew," the man said, eyes shining with amusement. "It's just that I would never have expected you to say such a thing. Or that you and Sokka would become such close friends."

"Friends!" Zuko snapped with such fury his hands flashed like flint.

Iroh shook his head at the adolescent show, a reminder of the hotheaded young man he had once been. Quietly outraged but chastised by the look the older man was giving him, Zuko hunched, thinking that it really wasn't fair for the old man to make fun of him.

_Uncle _liked Sokka, after all. Something about him being good at Pai Sho.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

At dawn the following morning, Zuko was roused by an enthusiastic summon by Aang. _Meet me outside the palace_, he had been commanded. And so he went, however much it was against his better judgment.

Toph and Katara met him at the gate, trailed by Sokka who appeared as though he had been dragged out of bed by his nostrils. His sister was affectionately trying to smooth down the frizzy fly-aways in his hair while he blinked at her in a mystified way as if he wasn't sure quite who she was.

"Wake up, Sokka," the young woman sing-songed, and Zuko paused to reflect that his Uncle was right; she had become quite lovely.

Toph was also growing up to be surprisingly attractive, provided she wasn't smirking directly at you, an expression that still resembled a plotting shark. These days she was much sought after as an earth-bending master, and even the reseated Earth King was said to dote on her. She was often a part of important diplomatic missions where an ability to discern truth and lies was very helpful.

She has also lost none of her charm. "Hey, Scarface!" she greeted him when he joined them outside the archway. "I thought fire-benders rose with the sun. You're late!"

Zuko squinted at the dubious mist at the edge of the horizon. It was possible that was the sun.

"I'm here," he answered simply.

To pass the time, he watched the others muzzing Sokka's increasingly bedraggled hair, standing nearby and while the two females took turns prodding the comatose Water tribesman.

They didn't have to occupy themselves long, as Aang appeared only a few minutes later. He landed practically on their heads, as though he'd fallen out of a cloud. "Wait til you see it," was the only intelligible thing they could get out of the excited Avatar. He lead them out into the city, so beside himself with delight that Toph had to shout at him more than once to slow down.

"What's going on, Aang?" Katara laughed as they walked, infected by his happiness. She had that sweet, fond look on that her face that often developed around the air-bender. Zuko noticed that they had linked hands.

"Something to show you," Aang explained, and his cheerful grey eyes were so merry they practically shown. "It's been in progress for weeks, but now it's finally finished. It was sort of a present to the Avatar."

They were guided out into the central plaza of the lower capital. And there, in the middle of a neatly constructed space, surrounded by white stone buildings and the colorful red tiles, stood a hulk of shining bronze.

"Wake up, Sokka." Zuko shook the boy as the others moved hastily toward the monument's base.

The Water tribesman rubbed his eyes like a child, murmuring, "Wut?"

Zuko's somber gaze had yet to move from the immortalized figures. He said simply, "Prepare yourself."

Sure enough, Aang was already gushing. "It's us!" he exclaimed, luminously happy.

The four bronze giants rose in the rising sun, burning burnished like newly minted coin. Dramatically poised, they each stood tall, gazing off into the distance with heroic, purposeful expressions.

So close, Zuko easily recognized the brilliant, detailed craftsmanship. It came from the Rai-ki – genius metallurgists from the volcanic islands in the south. They were reputedly the best shapers of metal in the world, and their reputations seemed to be deserved. These statues were amazing, each so artful as to appear almost alive.

A plaque had been engraved on the supporting platform, their legacy:

_The Avatar Companions_

_Children of the Four Nations_

_Unity, Courage, Compassion, Redemption_

_Who alone defeated Fire Lord Ozai_

_And restored balance to the world_

Aang was beaming, pleased by their awed faces. "See, it's for us. To remember the journeys we had together."

The two girls drew closer to him as though by instinct, obviously reflecting warmly upon memories of the time they'd spent together trying to save the world. It was the kind of pile-up that Sokka would regularly have been the center of, but instead he stood a little apart, looking up at the monument with a hooded expression.

"What do you think, Sokka?" Aang enthused, lit up like a child. He seemed oblivious to what might have been considered the glaring problem with the monument.

Zuko looked hard at the young man who had given up so much for the journey to bring peace to the Four Nations. _"Where am I?"_ would have been an appropriate question, but Sokka didn't ask it. Giving himself a little shake, he put on his most cheeky look. "Well, I dunno. For one thing, it doesn't look very much like Katara."

"What?" the girl exclaimed, immediately turning to look.

Aang appeared befuddled. "I think it looks like her."

Sokka gave the bronze tribute another scrutinizing once-over. "_Maybe_," he drew out the word. "At least they did a good job with the double chin."

"_WHAT?"_

The fire-bender watched wrath descend and all serious occupation with the monument shift. He turned his face to the four figures, the four elements, and the plaque. It was a lie of omission. But a lie that he feared was destined to become history.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

Iroh had spent the afternoon enjoying some valuable time with his nephew. Since his arrival in the capital, the young man had been consumed by his tiring schedule, but today he and Aang had finally finished seeing all the dignitaries who had been invited. He knew that Zuko, for one, would be glad to see them leave.

Unfortunately, there was yet one trial still before him.

"You understand appeasement politics well enough to know one cannot spread good-will without finalizing it with an luxurious banquet. This should not surprise you, my nephew," Iroh teased the boy as they walked slowly down the hall.

Zuko scowled. "Understanding it won't make it more pleasant. All the scrapping, the flattery, the _flirting_." He seemed well and truly miserable, one step away from dragging nails down his face. "The music alone will undo me. What if I have to dance? Mai will kill me."

Iroh held his belly, trying hard to keep from laughing in his nephew's face. No matter what the circumstances or one's rank, it seemed that an adolescent boy was an adolescent boy when it came to these things. Recalling galas of his own past, he offered, "Perhaps it will be alright. After all, both Aang and I will be present."

"I already know you won't shield me, old man. More likely, you'll hand me off." When Iroh didn't deny it, he added, "And Aang will be busy. Katara is here, remember?"

"It may be inevitable that you have to accept a few turns around the floor, I'm afraid. You are a very eligible bachelor, you know. Though, perhaps if you arranged to go with a temporary partner…"

The boy barked an ungracious laugh. "Yes. It would be like choosing an executioner. No. I'll just have to get out of it somehow."

"I'm afraid not, my nephew. Attendance is obliged, particularly for the host."

A familiar cadence interrupted further discussion of the matter, and the old general rotated on aging legs to look over their shoulders. "Ah, Sokka!" he greeted the lad, pleased to see the intrepid guardian. He clapped the boy's shoulder as soon as he was near enough. "So scrawny," he teased, wobbling the grinning youth.

When Sokka saw Zuko's downtrodden face, he had the audacity to laugh. "You," he said. "What's with that face?"

It was Iroh who answered him. "My nephew is not looking forward to the banquet tonight."

"It will be so incredibly boring," Zuko bemoaned, for one second sounding infinitely like the teenager he was.

"Boohoo," Sokka teased him, because he could.

"You're coming, right?" his nephew asked. This was obviously the boy's latest tactic. Iroh had seen drowning animals do something similar – drag one another down.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Sokka was too clever to be drawn under by anything other than his own will. Propping his chin on a hand, he mused, "I don't know. It's going to be _incredibly boring._"

Undeterred by his mocking humor, Zuko wheedled, "You do understand that by 'banquet,' it's mean that there will be a feast involved."

It was a well judged weakness. The Southerner actually looked a little dreamy. "Feast? Well, okay, I guess I'll come. As a favor to your highness."

Zuko rolled his eyes, but it was poor concealment for the triumph underlying his features. "Whatever. Just so long as I don't have to go alone."

In retaliation for this manipulation, Sokka waggled his brows. "Why, Zuko," he said, deliberately smarmy. "I hear there'll be dancing."

It was as predictable as throwing a log into a furnace. "I forgot something!" Zuko announced, pivoting abruptly back towards his rooms.

The old general and the Water tribesman watched him stomp off. "I wonder if he knows that when he's secretly pleased about something, he kind of glows," Sokka commented.

Iroh's grin curled, thinking of how easily he'd always been able to read through his nephew's sullen disdain and theatrical moodiness. He wondered how the boy would feel if he knew he was so transparent to Sokka.

"You're perceptive," he complimented.

Sokka just shrugged. "He's, like, four-years-old."

Iroh laughed, thumping the boy on the back hard enough to rock him on his feet. "It not hard to see why Zuko has become so fond of you."

"Undoubtedly not his words." The tribesman coughed into his hand, amused.

"No, but as you have said, my nephew is not a terribly subtle creature." The hallway seemed quiet, a requiem of confidences. Iroh accused, "You care for him too."

There was no denial. Sokka just tipped him a look with his glacial eyes. "Where I came from, everything is about surviving together. It's why I'm sticking around to keep an eye on Aang…and Zuko. You don't just stop being tribe. Not ever."

Truth. The statement rang with it. That faithfulness wasn't so much a decision as it was this boy's nature – the whole force of heredity, culture, and character pushing him to choices and sacrifices that others might not even consider. Iroh could wish that his own people would embrace even some small measure of that _savage_ devotion.

It made him recall an earlier conversation. "Zuko is quite troubled at the moment, not least of all because his friend is unhappy." He waited until Sokka was looking directly into his face. "We spoke about the message you were sent, and I want you to know that there is no shame in longing for home, especially after being away for so long. And no shame in fear, especially when you doubt your welcome."

"Zuko wants me to stay here," Sokka shared, and it was clear he was conflicted. Vulnerability radiated from him, visible behind the shield of wild antics and playful jokes that usually cloaked it. "But I don't belong here."

"I've been told that you did very well passing as a Fire Nation citizen once. Zuko admitted that he was, in fact, deemed an imposter before you."

Sokka rolled blue, blue eyes as if to say, _'Yeah, no clue how that happened.'_

Iron looked at him without speaking. Sokka was a good boy. Perhaps not so radically destined to the glory that would remember his companions, but a notable and admirable young man all the same. Without any powers at all, Iroh secretly wondered how much of the earth he would move, one handful of dirt at a time.

* * *

Katara worked steadily, plying the needle with the kind of clumsy deftness that had become her way. This last minute adjustments of the thin blue trim was tricky, and she felt her brother stiffen when she flinched and dug the sharp point in deeper than necessary.

"I need you to stay still," she murmured by way of apology, and he came to an even more rigorous attention. That he didn't grumble or tease just went to show how much he wanted her help. He wasn't taking any chances, this time.

"There," she said finally, brushing away a stray thread and adjusting the fabric at his shoulders. "You look very handsome."

Grinning, Sokka took her fingers and playfully swung her back to arm's length so that the pearly hem of her dress swished. "And you look beautiful, Katara," he complimented her. "I'm going to have to hover even more diligently than usually tonight to keep away all the men who aren't good enough for you."

He was only partially teasing, so she put off that notion. "I think I can handle it. And anyway, I'll be with Aang." She didn't know it, but her face lit up in a special way when she thought of it. "Besides, I thought you were babysitting Zuko tonight."

Sokka chuckled, amused by her wording. "I'm being exploited," he admitted. "He just doesn't want to stand by himself, ready prey for any young woman brazen enough to approach the Fire Lord."

"None of which would be a decent kind of girl anyway," Katara put in.

"Yeah," Sokka agreed. "That's why I'll be there. With my manly good looks and wit, all the girls will be too staggered to even notice _him_."

Katara giggled. "Whatever you say, Gorgeous."

She looked into his dusky, amiable face – always a keystone for her, always a strong support. After so long living in one another's pockets, it had been hard not seeing him for so long. Her silly, steady as moon-and-tide big brother.

"Oh!" She suddenly remembered, and walked briskly to her bed. Upon arriving, she and Toph had each been shown to a set of luxurious chambers draped in the colors of their origin. Her bedroom alone was larger than their entire home at the South Pole, and the futon where she had tossed her fur-lined rucksack was piled with so many silver and azure cushions that it took her a moment to find what she was looking for. "I almost forgot," she said as she searched. "I brought you a present."

"Present?" Sokka repeated, perking up.

It had gotten stuck somewhere under the folds of clothing, but at last she freed it with a triumphant "Ha!" The little crescent glimmered bone-white in the torchlight, and the girl smiled, motioning for her brother to stoop so she could reach the top of his combed hair.

"I always thought you looked good with those fire pendants in your hair – you know, during the time we were traveling here before the invasion," she explained as she carefully attached the clip. "But you can't go around as a representative of the Southern Water Tribe with a ridiculous red flame on your head, so I made you a replacement. Aha! Well, take a look."

Her brother obligingly turned and walked to the looking glass placed against one wall. In his reflection, the small ivory moon burned cold. It looked very right there, just as the formal wear made him look competent and mature. He'd come a long way, she reflected, from the gawky kid in the scruffy blue tunic carrying a boomerang.

"It's really nice, Katara," her brother said, touching it softly. "Thank you."

But the figure of him in the mirror looked a little wane. Blinking, he rubbed his eyes.

"Sokka?" his sister asked, pressing her hand against his back. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry," he said, embarrassed. "It's silly. It just made me think about…"

Katara wrapped her brother in am embrace, and he set his chin against her shoulder. She asked, "Are you homesick, Sokka?"

"Maybe," he mumbled into her neck, and she heard it again – that mournful note of dejection. "I miss ice and fur and the sound of water. I miss hunting." Of course, he could hunt here, but she knew what he meant – with a spear and another shoulder against his own. He missed the pack. Being a lone wolf wasn't what he was meant for. "Do you know why Dad didn't ask for me to come home?"

She shook her head, feeling his sorrow. "You know how difficult things are right now. I think he just believes you're where you can be the most help. Aang tells me all the time how he could hardly get along without you."

And he had. He told her how frustrated he sometimes felt, how he often went to the older boy when he felt near despair. How Sokka made him feel safe and cared about.

However, she also knew how her brother felt about coming home. If he had been at the South Pole, he would have been an adult – hunter, warrior – and likely beginning to take command of the village's young men. He would possibly have been considering marriage. But here? What role was he to play here?

It was a good question.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

The banquet was everything Zuko had suspected it would be. One of the palace's many inner halls had been made up to impeccable standards. Tables overflowed with food and drink, and warming up in the corner was a jovial group of young musicians preparing to facilitate the entertainment that Zuko had so dreaded.

There'd been some mingling already; some fielded, subtle inquires interwoven into polite introductions and greetings. All of it was so foolish and exhausting, and by the time Sokka finally showed up, Zuko was already had already spent most of his patience.

"There you are," Zuko snarled. He had been left here alone for nearly a half-hour now, standing very erect and attempting to be unapproachable, yet already he'd had to misdirect or plainly avoid several tittering woman with too little respect for his position.

Strolling over to join him, Sokka took his time brushing his neat attire free of invisible particles, clearly set on waiting until his companion had stroked out before he bothered to acknowledge the reprimand. It was only when the vein above Zuko's brow had become visible that Sokka tilted his head and said, "Oh, Zuko. Have you been here long?"

'_If you strangle him, then you'll be left here by yourself again,'_ Zuko reminded himself, coaching his temper. "Where have you been?"

"Katara was helping me with my outfit," Sokka admitted. Tugging uncomfortably at the dark navy fabric at his collar, he grimaced. It was much simpler than the dazzling imperial robes that Zuko wore, more like something a member of the military would wear. But that, if anything, was appropriate. "I don't know how you wear such formal clothes all the time."

"You shouldn't complain, Peasant," the fire-bender snipped, but amiably. Already he was feeling more calm now that Sokka was here. "At least it makes you look less like a hobo."

"A what?" Sokka asked, puzzled, but the music began before any further explanation could be offered, and then the boys stood watching the polite mingling and graceful movements of a few brave couples as they eased onto the dance floor.

"Dancing," Zuko sneered covertly, only inexpertly managing to cover his disgust. "I don't understand."

Sokka commented, "Aang loves it. You should have seen him the time he threw a dance party – he prances like an ostrich horse."

Rolling his eyes, Zuko only wished that could surprise him. He fully expected to see the younger boy gallivanting about the room in a keenly undignified way for most of the night. "It's humiliating!" he mumbled, genuine confusion coloring his hushed exclamation. "Fortunately, Mai would never appreciate something like that."

Mai was, ironically, on the same island as Suki, visiting with her friend Ty Lee. The timing had been unfortunate, but Zuko didn't pretend to understand the machinations of dangerous women. At the time, he'd gotten irritable and declared her a coward for abandoning him on such an occasion, but then she'd brandished something sharp at him and he hastily rethought his position.

"It's too bad she isn't here," Sokka said, obviously thinking of his own absent love. A wicked expression trickled onto his face. "Though if she were, you wouldn't need me to defend your honor."

He was right, and Zuko found himself smirking fondly. "She would gut them with a stiletto and then make dour comments about their making a mess of the hardwood." His companion choked on a hoarse laugh and the fire-bender snappishly inquired, "What?"

Sokka snorted into his palms. "You say," he panted for breath, "the funniest things sometimes."

Except he hadn't been joking about Mai's reaction to the forward, made-up women. In fact, now that he considered it, it might have been more thoughtful of her than he had realized that she had made herself so cleverly absent.

"My Lord Zuko."

A voice filtered from the general background noise, and turning, Zuko and Sokka waited on the approach of a tall, slightly paunchy young man only a few years their senior, broad nosed, mustached, and resplendent in a gold embroidered garment of high quality. The young Fire Lord knew him immediately as Baron Ezu, a distant relative of his, actually, and a member of one of the Fire Nation's most prominent noble houses. He ducked his head in acknowledgement of the man's gracious bow. "Ezu, it's good to see you again."

"Yes, very pleasant," the man echoed, his smile curling. "It's been such a long time."

This statement made the former prince in Zuko shift, uncomfortably reminded of his long exile. Over time, he'd come to accept that what had happened was not all his fault, but sometimes he still felt an itch of shame, especially when confronted with members of his past.

"Might I seek a moment of your time, cousin?" Ezu asked politely.

There was no reason to deny him, and so Zuko nodded. Ezu's house was an important ally, one of his few unflinching supporters. Moreover, Zuko had known him since boyhood. Ozai had favored the older teen when they'd been children, and Zuko had admired him. He invited, "I'd be happy if you joined us."

"Join?" Ezu asked, an oddly sweet tone working into his voice.

Zuko turned to Sokka, presenting him as he would an equal. "Yes. Baron Ezu, this is Sokka, a companion of the Avatar."

The noble's chin lifted. It was over his nose that he looked at Sokka, golden eyes drifting across the plain blue trim of his tunic and the ivory crescent tied in his hair before returning to settle on his dark face. "Ah, yes. I've seen him in the throne room – a body guard of yours and the Avatar's. All the way from the Northern Water Tribes." He smiled. "How exotic."

The way he said this was so nearly insulting that Zuko was taken aback. He glanced at Sokka, whose expression remained mild. Only the unusual veneer of ice present in his eyes gave any indication he was offended. He corrected, "I'm from the Southern Water Tribe, actually."

Ezu sneered, and this time his slur was unmistakable. "Clearly."

Sokka was standing tense but silent at Zuko's right side, a companionable nearness which the noble now took in with judging eyes. Recognizing it, the former prince felt a flicker of…what, embarrassment?

Ezu said to Sokka, "You know, it's customary in the Fire Nation for one to show respect to those of a higher station. To stand here so boldly before the Fire Lord himself…well. One can hardly imagine how he could allow such disregard."

Sokka's eyes flicked to Zuko, who's tongue seemingly frozen to the roof of his mouth. For though the words were directed at Sokka, the question he was raising was for Zuko, and perversely, just in that moment, the only thing the young lord could think of was how poorly a perceived slight would reflect on him now.

"Well?" the noble's command was as slick as glass and as edged as its shards.

There was a sense of swelling, and for one petrifying moment, Zuko was sure Sokka would throw his fist into Ezu's face. Then the potential for violence suddenly died. The fire-bender saw it happen, the fight draining from Sokka's stance. Blue eyes blinked, not at him, or the noble. At the ground.

Stiffly, Sokka inclined his head to Zuko, bowing at the waist. He did it without a sound, graciously, but he kept his gaze averted when he straightened.

"You can go, then," Ezu gestured him away dismissively, apparently satisfied the tribesman had been sufficiently humiliated. Or perhaps not, because in parting he asked, "Perhaps you could fetch me a fresh glass?"

Sokka stared at the proffered glass, the ring of red wine lingering at the bottom. For just a moment, Zuko caught another hint of flickering azure looking to him for support. He seemed to be asking, _'Is this what you want?'_ Still Zuko said nothing, and a film crept slowly over Sokka's eyes. He took the cup.

"My thanks," Ezu praised him, and Sokka's face burned red to his ears. Then he was gone as though he was never there into the crowd of milling dignitaries. Zuko watched him go with sickness building in his stomach.

"That's the real problem with unconditional peace." Ezu was looking after the tribesman with open disgust. "Every little inbred culture thinks they can do as they please."

Across the hall, Zuko caught sight of his uncle. The older man was frowning and shaking his head.

* * *

Iroh had followed Zuko when he left the banquet hall in a billow of deep red ropes and hurried strides that did nothing to conceal how distraught he was. Entering their rooms, he did not wait before turning upon his nephew.

He chastised, "That was quite a cowardly display. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I didn't _do_ anything," Zuko snapped, prowling back and forth in front of the couch.

"Oh?" Iroh demanded, stunned that the boy could even entertain such utter nonsense. "What you did or did not do is perhaps very much in question, but aside from all other things, you deeply hurt Sokka's feelings."

"Then I've merely joined the club," Zuko said bitterly, obviously thinking of messages, missed training sessions, monuments.

"That is a club whose merits I would seriously consider before joining, Nephew."

"It's the natural way of things," Zuko said, sounding as though he were fighting to convince himself as well as Iroh. "I'm the Fire Lord. He _should_ be differential."

Iroh looked hard at his agitated nephew. He could tell Zuko was torn by what had happened, and the young man had always been emotional. Sometimes it made Iroh want to spare him, but Zuko was bound by too great a responsibility to be babied.

"You would do well to remember, my nephew, that however you might consider Sokka's position in comparison to your own, that boy _is_ the heir of the clan leader of the Southern Water Tribes, and though they have no princes or lordly positions, in a way his title isn't so different from that pompous brat Ezu's."

He paused to allow his words to sink in. Zuko had stopped pacing and stood erect, frozen at the far corner of the carpet. The deposed general continued, "And even if he _were_ only a peasant with no role or responsibility beyond what he has proven as a companion of the Avatar and as a companions of _yours_, you made a very bold statement today about what his loyalty and friendship mean to you."

The boy came alive, snarling, "I didn't say anything!"

"Exactly," Iroh countered. "You allowed another to insult him in your presence. Yet he showed tremendous grace, setting aside his pride for the sake of _your_ image. I have my doubts you would ever submit to him for the same purpose. It was a great injustice, Zuko. You owe him an apology. And certainly some consideration about the future. Undoubtedly, this will happen again, especially if he chooses to say here in the Fire Nation."

Zuko allowed himself to sink onto a cushioned chair, balling his fists and glaring at them. The troubled nature of this thoughts was clear to anyone who knew him well. Iroh watched him struggle with this new problem. Probably considering over what sacrifices he was willing to make for his peculiar friendship, undoubtedly battling a storm of guilt.

Because while the relationship he'd formed with his peer from such an impossibly different culture and value system was unaccountable, Iroh also knew that – almost against his will – Zuko _did_ value it, a great deal more than he would ever admit.

He physically saw the resistance drain out of the young man. "Uncle," he said, exhaling in a long, controlled sigh. "I don't want to hurt him."

Iroh felt a surge of pride in this young man he had helped raise, so much that he let a broad grin show on his face. "Ah," he said. "I'm pleased to hear you say that."

"It still doesn't tell me what to do." Zuko bared his teeth, obviously frustrated. "I can apologize, but it _will_ happen again, and already my people doubt my strength."

"Let them judge you by the strength of your convictions," the old general counseled, "and not just the strength of your army."

Zuko nodded, falling quiet. He was obviously still dissatisfied, so Iroh offered him some final advice, shifting closer so he could place a wide hand against the youth's back.

"Ultimately, nephew, this is a question about how much your friend is worth to you, outside of everything – title, position, public opinion, and your own pride. His former companions are already making their choices, and I worry for Sokka. He has a faithful heart, and I'm afraid it's going to cause him pain. He needs you, and I think very probably you need him. It's good for you to be around someone your own age who won't just tell you what you want to hear or follow your lead without question. He has, dare I say it, a balancing effect on you."

Zuko accepted these last words like a foul odor, but didn't bother to deny them. He had always been a belligerent child, but somewhere along the way he had become wise enough to realize his uncle rarely said something he wasn't sure of.

So he asked, "What should I do?"

Iroh shook his head. "I cannot tell you, nephew. How you deal with this will say a great deal about the kind of leader you become. There are no easy answers. However, I trust your decision will be honorable. Like Sokka, you have a good heart."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

That night was fair, cool as it rarely was during the daytime hours. Above the eves of the palace's scrolling roof, the firmament was a spread-out scattering of stars. Yet crowning them all was the moon shinning with her queenly aspect, full tonight.

That was how Zuko had known where to seek; Sokka was always outside on the night of the full moon.

The shingles shifted under his feet as he neared the Water tribesman, seated almost trancelike on the buildings thin spine, chin tipped up to the sky.

"Sokka," he called apprehensively when he was close enough, unsure of his welcome, especially here in the quiet, silvery blue haze. It was like being underwater, and he already felt out of his depth.

The dim body turned at the sound of his awkward approach. "Oh, Zuko. Ah, I mean, your majesty." He bowed with a grand flourish from his seated position, a lopsided sneer on his face. He was teasing, dismissing what had happened with a gag.

Yet it wasn't right. Wasn't right to be offered absolution so easily.

"I'm sorry," Zuko finally managed after a stammer of empty silence. Guilt surged through him and he grimaced. "I shouldn't have let Ezu speak to you like that."

As hard as this admission had been, Sokka didn't seem to be taking it very seriously. He waved a hand. "Don't worry about it, Zuko. I don't mind helping you impress the locals." Voice full of humor, he pointed out, "After all, you need all the help you can get."

"This isn't a joke!" Zuko couldn't stop his temper from spiking.

But perhaps it was the right thing to do, because it summoned a rare honest reaction out of Sokka: he got angry. "How would you like me to react, Zuko?" was his dark demand, and the fire-bender had the impression of a crouching wolf. "Do you want me to be mad at you? Hold a grudge?"

"I was stupid," the fire-bender responded heatedly. "You _should_ be angry."

"You don't get to decide that!" Sokka snapped, and even under the moonlight his face was red from the unusual outburst. "It's not that guy's opinion that matters to me, okay? I –" His voice strangled then, and he had to cough to clear his throat. Regaining composure, he spoke much more quietly, "I didn't get into any of this for fame, Zuko. Not even for _respect_. I don't care what the world or the history books think of me. Everyone who matters knows what I did. It doesn't bother me."

"Even if your father isn't one of those people?" Zuko demanded. "Or your sister or Aang or Toph?" _Or me_, he thought. "What if the people that matter don't care either?"

"They _do _care! But, it would be okay." Sokka sighed, and it was as though he were trying to convince himself – like it was an old argument he'd been repeating for a long time. "It's okay."

Except it wasn't, and it made Zuko furious. He couldn't change the world, or history, but he could change himself. "I swear, I won't let someone treat you like that again," he promised. As strongly as he knew how, he said, "And it _isn't_ okay."

For a moment, Zuko thought he saw a response in those obstinate blue eyes – saw that he'd been taken seriously. Then the moment snapped, and Sokka folded his arms, snorting. "Everything with you has to be so melodramatic."

"Says the ridiculous clown," the fire-bender immediately countered. "Or wasn't that you I recall salting Haru's undergarments with stinging rhinoceros ants?

"Hey! He was hitting on my sister!" defended the Southerner.

"Half the planet has hit on your sister."

"So you see why I'm so paranoid all the time," Sokka bemoaned, swinging his feet. The _tap tap _of his heels against the ceramic tiles was hopeful. "Being a big brother is rough."

"I always managed."

"Please. Your sister's face made people wet their pants. And anyway, I'd like to have seen you try to defend her honor. She'd have set you on fire."

"Speaking of setting someone on fire…"

"Ack! Stop that. If you burn me, I'm telling Katara!"

"Sissie's boy."

"Conflagration."

Things sort of went downhill from there, but it was a good downhill, like rolling on grass in the summertime, friendly, willing, and good.

In the silence that proceeded the series of insults, it become so quiet that the only sound was the soft rattle of the wind against the shingles. The young lord sat in the murky indigo, feeling tranquil for the first time. As he sat beside his _friend_. And though it was strange for him to use such a title, it seemed right.

Still, there were things to discuss. "Sokka," he finally spoke into the pause. "I've been thinking about it, and I really want you to stay here."

The Water tribesman visibly stiffened. It took him a moment, but when he did speak, it was as though he were daring the fire-bender to nay-say him. "My people need me. There's work that needs to be done –"

"None that any other man might do. You told me this yourself. And if you father didn't ask you to come…" Zuko knew his unresolved pain towards his own father's callous treatment was affecting him, spurring him to cruel words. He had to bite down on his own lip to keep from continuing. This was not how he wanted to convince Sokka – by hurting him. "Sokka, I'm sorry."

The young man looked up at him, uncertainty plain in the movement of his entire body.

Zuko asked him again, "Stay."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

The throne room was completely filled with men and woman from every corner of the world, representing dozens of dialects, customs, cultures, concerns, and criticisms. But most were also united in a hope that the future would not have to be like the past.

The embodiment of this hope sat perched light as a bird on his seat, grinning around the hall with genuine pleasure. The banquet had fulfilled its purpose of lightening everyone's spirits admirably. Toph and Katara were also present, grinning and chatting, waving at Aang.

Yet in spite of the jovial mood, Aang leaned over and commented privately, "I'll be glad when this is finally over."

Zuko couldn't agree more vehemently. It was the last day of the week, and indeed the last official gathering before the world's dignitaries would return to their homes. The last chance for treaties and assurances. The final chance for Zuko and Aang to make lasting impressions.

It comforted him that his uncle was there, standing at the right hand of his seat. "You're uneasy, my nephew," the older man judged as they watched the tableau.

"It's nothing," Zuko answered easily, if not entirely truthfully. His eyes scanned the milling crowd, but he did not see who he was looking for. He was beginning to believe the man had not dared come.

Iroh reached to press Zuko's arm, a supportive, calming gesture. "It takes tremendous boldness and audacity to challenge a powerful ruler once. Perhaps he will balk at doing it twice, particularly when the entire congregation is present."

"I don't know, Uncle. He was –" Deranged was not the right word. Gouzhi had seemed too methodical in his reasoning to have been crazy, but he'd been frighteningly persistent, uncompromising, determined. "Driven," he decided. Maybe even hungry. The intensity of his desire had disturbed Zuko.

Casting a look over his shoulder, the Fire Lord sought a familiar flash of blue amidst the backdrop of the room's many tapestries and elegant arches. There he spotted Sokka, who had taken up his customary spot just out of reach at the far left. He stood looking out over the crowd, like a zealous guard watching over them.

Zuko felt determined not to fail him again.

Time passed, the procession mingled. Placating, friendly things were said. Soon it was almost time for the group to dismiss, and Zuko became hopeful that Gouzhi would have thought better of forcing a confrontation.

Yet just as he was beginning to think about gesturing for Aang to make his parting speech, the echoing sound of hinges filled the room; a late arrival. The dark goatee and ember-eyes were unmistakable even from across the room, and in the light of the hall, his silver hair ornament glinted like a pair of fangs.

Even though he had been anticipating the intrusion, Zuko nonetheless experienced a churning in his gut. From the corner, wary Sokka could be seen watching with interest and confusion as this new man boldly approached. Zuko's agitation was unambiguous, however, and reading the tension, the tribesman rested one hand on his sword.

"My Lords," Gouzhi bowed, but this time his mockingly obsequious manner was unquestionable in the smoldering charcoal of his eyes.

Aang was already fidgeting, the attention of the entire hall having redirected to this inexplicable confrontation. Taking the initiative, Zuko stepped forward to met the man. "This is a warning," he intoned. "Think very carefully before you speak."

"Such a hostile response," Gouzhi's words coiled like a black smoke. "All this for one boy?"

Quiet sank into the room like teeth. Those who had witnessed his initial request were captivated, and those who had not were curious. Everyone seemed to sense that something significant was circling, like the funnel of a destructive wind.

"It has been a week," the noble reminded them, sounding terribly reasonable. "I've come to see if you have reconsidered my request."

Every moment he spoke, Zuko became more convinced of how dangerous he was. He accused, "You've asked me for a human being."

"Such dramatics," Gouzhi said. "Troops are transferred all the time. Human capital is exchanged."

Human capital. That he could even use such a term… Zuko answered him, "Even if I would consider such a thing," he said, bracing himself for the reaction of the hall, "Sokka isn't mine to command, nor is he the Avatar's."

Shock. His uncle visibly startled, the revelation of what this man wanted breaking through even his immovable calm. Katara gasped, a sound above the silence of the crowd. And the reaction he least wanted to see…

Sokka was standing as though frozen, unnaturally pale against the dark tapestry. Not upset, not yet. He didn't look anything, except confused. Their eyes met for half a second, and Zuko could practically read his question: '_What does he want with me?'_

The young Fire Lord had only suspicions, a sense of unease, and his Uncle's uncomfortable words about ruin. But that was enough.

His statement had actually angered Gouzhi. "Please, let's not have that argument again," he said. "By love or duty, you both bind him. The only possible question is which of you has the greater claim." He turned to bare into Aang with eyes like serrated talons, demanding, "Avatar, do you seek peace?"

"Y-yes," the boy stammered. Zuko would have liked to smack him for his meekness.

"Already your hard won tranquility stands at the edge of a knife," Gouzhi told him. "My arms wait to serve you. But without assurance, no, this can never be. I ask little. A boy committed to my service. Is that so much to ask for an end to war?"

"Stop it," Zuko spoke through gritted teeth. "Quit trying to frighten him into granting your request as through it were some small thing."

"Come, this is no strange request," the man patronized. "If I had requested any other of your guards, you would not hesitate."

"Sokka is not a servant, he is a friend, and I will not barter with him, Gouzhi," Zuko snapped, eyes flashing. "Do you understand me?"

They had moved past all subtlety, all farcical diplomacy. "You are inviting war," his adversary warned. "I command _eight thousand_ fighting men within a week's march of the capital, and I have the connections to raise more. Your father sharpened this country for violence, Lord Zuko, and they are a formidable force."

"I am rebuilding this nation on something other than domination." Zuko answered him. "We'll see who the people follow. But I warn you, I feel they are tired of snakes in the grass."

Gouzhi actually laughed. "Do you think they will answer to you simply because of a title? Fire is the element of _power_, not weakness. Or haven't you noticed that your citizens hold you in contempt – the pitiful traitor prince playing dress-up with daddy's diadem."

The young Fire Lord refused to rise to the baiting of his temper, refused to be beguiled into defending his throne. He spoke as an unquestioned, unquestionable ruler: "I won't seek confrontation with you, Gouzhi, but you must know that if you try such foolishness, I will crush you. Our allies will stop you."

"Will they?" Gouzhi gestured around the hall. "This motley, half-hearted group of self-seekers? You're as naïve as that one," he spat towards Aang. "And a fool. Bloodshed, death, and all that you have sworn to prevent. And you'd bring about all that for what?"

"For me."

The unexpected voice cut through the heat between the combatants like a trickle of water, and Sokka stepped forward, a puzzled but determined look on his face. "You want me to join your guard? That's all?"

"Sokka –" Zuko began, but Gouzhi addressed the Southerner directly now.

"That's right, my boy," he said, and as he looked on the young man it was as if a light had begun burning in his uncharted black eyes. "It's uncomplicated. A few years of service…for peace."

The Water tribesman must have sensed how potentially dangerous Gouzhi was, because an involuntary shiver worked down his back in a long line. Still, he would not retreat. Zuko could tell Sokka was considering the offer. He was thinking about what would be best for everyone else, considering himself a small sacrifice.

But when he finally opened his mouth and took a step forward, undoubtedly to accept Gouzhi's proposition, Zuko yanked him back bodily by the shoulder.

"No." Zuko looked directly into Sokka's face. "No."

To his surprise, Aang had left his seat and was there beside them both. His expression was harsher than most in the hall had known he was able to muster. Discretely, his smaller hand curled around Sokka's. To the Fire Nation noble, he repeated Zuko's command:

"No."

A low growl; Gouzhi had come alive with a rage that overcame his remaining façade of serenity. He took a step towards them – violence, hatred in his face. He looked crazed, having lost all composure, and Zuko began to second guess what he'd thought about the man not being mad.

A lurch rocked the man forward. "You weren't supposed to refuse me."

Zuko had his Dao swords from their sheaths before Gouzhi took another step. They slid out with a satisfying metallic noise of iron against oiled leather. Then they flashed, twin stars, their concave bladed tips a circle around Gouzhi's neck. He held them steady, face immovable, fierce, regal.

"You may test me if you like, Gouzhi," he said. "But do not blame me when you find yourself caught between the dragon's teeth."

Will you kill me, Lord?" the noble sneered. A trickle of sweat slide down his brow.

"Perhaps I'll just arrest you," Zuko suggested calmly. The guards were moving forward even before he lowered his blades. "Threatening your Lord. Conspiring to incite treason." He tsked. "Terrible. Who knows when you'll ever see a sunrise again."

Then, just like that, it was over. Zuko had been too absorbed in the dangerous confrontation to take in the silence that hung over the delegates, but he heard it now, and saw. All around the dais, the men and women of the world's nations stood gazing upon him. It was startling for him to read the sentiment on their faces.

Respect.

He was astonished. It was as if all the impenetrable fakeness in the hundreds of expressions had finally melted, and beneath them he saw what was real – what had been their fear, their uncertainty, their doubt. But that too had drained before his eyes. They were looking at him with belief.

Aang had turned to his friend even before Gouzhi had been fully escorted from the room, and his arms were around Sokka in an instant. "I'm sorry," Zuko heard him murmur.

Katara had also come forward, squeezing her brother's neck. "As if we'd have let him take you anywhere!" she hissed furiously. Toph had hold of his arm with a bruising pressure, and Zuko wondered for a moment if he'd judged their indifference too harshly.

His uncle's strong hand bore into his shoulder then, his voice so proud in his ear. "That's my boy," he praised, and squeezed. "You have their confidence now. That you can defend what matters. That you can do it with justice and not with force. Good boy."

After a moment, Sokka forced his way out of the tangle created by his friends' combined embrace, and came stand beside Zuko. "If I'd known you could put on that kind of show I wouldn't have worried so much about you being deposed," he teased.

"Yes, well," the fire-bender retorted. It was hard not to grin. "Someone once told me I had a flare for the melodramatic."

"Definitely true," his uncle said.

Sokka laughed, and extended his arm to be clasped, a warrior's shake. Zuko took it and gripped it strongly. The Southerner leaned forward, close enough to whisper.

He said, "I'll stay. At least for now."


End file.
